PW (10/01/1970 / Webster, New Hampshire)

Memory (1994)

The memory of you was like a faded dream,
buried underneath the years.
But a voice rises from the past,
and I remember love and fears.

I drank away that memory,
now it returns to sting,
with tears that fell like rain,
in a violent storm of spring.

I can not shake the past,
though I left you behind.
For even now I see your face,
in the thorns of my mind.

I said I loved you
and that I cried.
Swore I'd forget you,
in that I lied.

by Patrick Wescott

Comments (1)

Very nice poem. Isn't it a beast how past love, enojys to linger right behind our eyes for what seems like eternity? It serves as a wonderful muse though! haha. Great job with this one. -Leigh